About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Slimy, wordful, disgusting Wednesday
RIP you sons of bitches asparagus. We both knew when I bought you that I had no idea what I was going to do with you. Bake you? Boil you? Pick my nose with you?
Instead of googling recipes I let you die a slow and painful death in my fridge. In a word: vegecide. And now you'll meet your maker via a composter, right next to a moldy acorn squash. What you two do in your final hours is between you and your slimy pokey parts.